Oliver Strange - Sudden Westerns 06 - Sudden Gold-Seeker(1937) (20 page)

 
          
“Settles
that, of course,” he admitted. “You can’t describe this fellow—Hank?” She shook
her head.
“Medium height and build, with a throaty voice
which may have been due to the handkerchief over his mouth.”

 
          
“So,
when you escaped, you spent the night in the woods with Green?”

 
          
“Certainly,
there being no alternative save the outlaws.”

 
          
“Did
he make love to you?” She laughed disdainfully. “My dear Paul, no man makes
love to me without my permission. He conducted himself like a gentleman.”

 
          
“Which
was a disappointment, no doubt?” The gibe sent the blood into her cheeks.

 
          
Looking
him directly in the face, she said fiercely: “Yes.” Though he did not believe
it, the defiant manner made him sorry he had hurt her. He began to say so, but
she shrugged an impatient shoulder.

 
          
“It
doesn’t matter,” she said. “You resemble Snowy, only your tongue is too well
ground.

 
          
Is
there any news?”

 
          
“Some
more miners have been killed and robbed by a man in cowboy clothes, riding a
black horse.” Her eyes went wide. “Why, that must have been he—the man who
nearly strangled me. I heard a shot just before I saw him.”

 
          
“The
miners are taking it pretty hard.” A deep-throated bellow, like distant
thunder, came to their ears.

 
          
“What
on earth is that?” Lora wondered.

 
          
Snowy,
flinging open the door, answered the question:

 
          
“Hey,
Paul, the town’s gone mad. They’ve got Green an’ are goin’ to string him up
right now; they claim he’s the prowlin’ skunk who’s been wipin’ ‘em out.” Lora’s
face went deathly white. “My God, we must do something, Paul,” she cried. “He’s
innocent—and useful,” she added, noting the odd look in his eyes.

 
          
“Certainly
we must,” he said, “but there’s no need for you to figure in it—yet.”

 
          
“I’m
coming with you,” she stated. “I owe him that, at least. Besides, it will put
him under an obligation.”

 
          
“You
gotta hurry, there ain’t a second to lose,” Snowy urged.

 
          
Just
as they reached the outskirts of the crowd, Wild Bill strode up. The gunman’s
usually placid face was set and stern. “Make way, friends,” he said quietly.

 
          
The
outer fringe of the gathering consisted largely of men who, not being miners,
were merely there out of curiosity, and when they saw from whom the request
came, they made way readily enough. Paul and his companions followed on Hickok’s
heels. As they neared the wagon, progress became more difficult. Lowering looks
on all sides greeted them, and then came a flat refusal.

 
          
“If
yo’re gamblin’ on a rescue, Bill, you’ll lose out,” growled a beetle-browed
miner, one of several barring their path. “If you ain’t, well, they’ll be
jerkin’ him up in two-three minutes an’ you’ll git as good a view as the rest
of us.”

 
          
“I
never ask twice,” Hickok said.

 
          
He
made no hostile movement, the ivory-handled guns remained in their holsters,
his voice was not raised, but the threat was there, and they knew well enough
it was no empty one; he would shoot them down; the rest of the mob could
overwhelm and tear him to bits, but that would not put the breath back into
their bodies. Sullenly they pressed aside, permitting the gunman and those with
him to reach the wagon.

 
          
Sudden,
standing under the upraised pole, with the noose already round his neck, was
waiting for the word which would for him spell the beginning of eternity. His
hard young face was devoid of expression save for the eyes, scornful and
defiant, staring fixedly at the man who would give the fatal sign. This was
Husky, and he had begun to raise a hand when Hickok sprang on to the wagon. But
at the sight of the pistol-barrel nudging the new-corner’s hip and pointing
directly to himself, the miner’s arm dropped nervelessly. A savage howl of
protest greeted the gunman’s intervention, to die away in low, angry muttering
when Husky spoke:

 
          
“See
here, Bill, when was you app’inted marshal o’ Deadwood?”

 
          
“About
the same time yu were made hangman,” Hickok retorted. “Take that rope off; yu’ve
got the wrong fella.” Husky looked uneasy. “Can you prove it?” he asked.

 
          
“Yes,
an’ if I couldn’t yu’d do what I say or die before he did,” Wild Bill snapped.

 
          
“Yo’re
takin’ a high hand,” the miner grumbled. “There’s others have a say in this.”
He raised his voice. “Am I to turn him loose, boys?”
A babel
of expostulation followed the question.

 
          
“Turn
him off, not loose,” one wit shouted, and the phrase was taken up and repeated.
Mingled with it were invitations to Hickok to mind his own business, and to try
a warmer climate. “Go ahead, Husky; we’re behind you,” others cried.

 
          
Erect
on the wagon, the object of this outburst listened with an expression of cold
contempt. At the last piece of encouragement, however, a wisp of a smile broke
the straight lines of his lips. He knew that was Husky’s trouble; had he been
behind he would have shouted as boldly as the best, but stopping the first
bullet was something different.

 
          
“Yo’re
a plucky lot, ain’t yu?” he said.
“Hundreds of yu to hang a
man without givin’ him a chance to speak.”

 
          
“That
ain’t so—he’s said his piece,” Husky corrected. “Claims he was carried off by a
gang an’ held in the hills somewheres. Sounds likely, don’t it?” Lora Lesurge
stepped to Hickok’s side.

 
          
“It
may not sound likely, sir, but it happens to be true,” she said, in a clear,
reaching voice. “As many of you know, I too have been `lost’ for some days. I
was set upon, half-throttled, and carried off by a man attired as a cowboy
mounted on a black pony. He took me to a kind of camp, where I found Mister
Green, bound hand and foot, when I arrived. He did not leave until we got away.”

 
          
“How
fur is thisyer camp, an’ where?” Husky asked, with an air of disbelief.

 
          
“I
have no idea,” she replied. “It took us a day to get back to Deadwood, but we
started in the dark, and did not know the direction. Also, it was rough country
and I fear I am a poor walker.”

 
          
“You
were with Green allatime?” a voice inquired sneeringly.

 
          
“I
have said so,” she returned, her face white and cold as marble. “Mister Green
told me they had taken his hat, chaps and guns. He could not understand why,
but it is clear enough now.” Husky scratched his head. “He’s wearin’ ‘em,” he
said, and she had to explain how Sudden had regained his property.

 
          
The
sneering voice from the middle of the throng spoke again.

 
          
“Oh,
she’s got it all pat, or-timer. I told you his friends would
lie
him out of it.” Wild Bill’s narrow eyes swept the gathering. “Who said that?”
he thundered. “Let him step forward; I’d like to see him.” There was no
response; evidently the speaker had no desire to gratify the gunman’s
curiosity. Wild Bill looked at Husky. “Well?” he said impatiently.

 
          
The
miner made a last effort. “Why didn’t you tell us ‘bout Miss Lesurge?” he asked
the prisoner.

 
          
“Why
the devil should I?” the puncher retorted. “It was none o’ yore business.” The
man grimaced. “I’m allowin’ it was yore neck,” he said. “An’ yu wouldn’t have
listened either,”

 
          
Sudden
told him. “Yu
ain’t believin’
it now.”

 
          
“He’d
better,” Hickok exploded. “Husky, do I have to tell yu again to set Green free?”

 
          
The
man removed the rope. “I guess we’ll hold him till we search out that camp,” he
said.

 
          
Wild
Bill boiled over. “I—guess—yu—will—not,” he grated. “Cut those bonds an’ be
damned quick about it.” He drew himself up and surveyed the swarm of upturned,
sullen faces.

 
          
“Is
there anyone here who wants to call this lady a liar?” he demanded. Silence
followed the challenge, and he turned sardonically to the miner. “Yu ‘pear to
be the on’y one,” he said. “Now, get this; Green won’t run away; if he does, yu
can swing me in his stead.” There was a laugh at this. With the mercurial
quality of a mob, many of those present now believed in the innocence of the
accused. Hickok’s reputation as straight was generally conceded, Paul Lesurge
was a figure in the town, and the Westerner—rough as he might he—was usually
chivalrous to any women.

 
          
Without
waiting for a reply, the gunman jumped lightly from the vehicle and stretching
up his long arms, swung the lady to the ground, and bowed to her, hat in hand.

 
          
“I
compliment yu on yore courage, ma’am,” he said.

 
          
“Coming
from you I must even believe it, sir,” she smiled, and turned to greet the
cowboy, her face grave again.

 
          
“I
don’t know whether to thank or scold you,” she began. “By good fortune we came
in time—it would have been a horrible memory … Why didn’t you tell them about
me?”

 
          
“It
wouldn’t have helped,” he told her. “Things looked bad; friend Hank had it
figured pretty neat.” Lesurge joined them. “Green, I owe you a great deal for
getting my sister out of that mess,” he said, but there was no cordiality in
his tone.

 
          
“I
was gettin’ myself out,” the cowboy replied, “an’ Miss Lesurge has more’n
evened the score.” The lady shook her head. “My part was easy.” At this moment
Gerry appeared, with Rogers and his partners, all carrying rifles. The young
man whooped when he saw his friend.

 
          
“Saw
I couldn’t do nothin’ so I slipped away to round up the boys,” he explained.
“Hoped we’d be in time to try somethin’.”

 
          
“I’m
obliged,” Sudden said gravely. “Thanks to Miss Lesurge an’ Mister Hickok …”

 
          
“She
turned the trick,” the gunman cut in, with an admiring glance at Lora. “I
should have failed but for her testimony. All I did was to make ‘em
listen
, an’ I’m very glad yore friend Jacob routed me out.”

 
          
“I
wondered where
the of
boy had gone,” Gerry remarked. “He
vanished when they collared yu.” Snowy sidled up to the puncher. “I’ve heard
how you wouldn’t split about the mine, Jim,” he whispered. “I’m not forgettin’
that.”

 
          
“Yeah,”
Sudden smiled, “an’ I rememberin’ that if yu hadn’t fetched Miss Lesurge my
friends would now be tellin’ each other what a good fella I was.” When Paul and
his sister had gone, Hickok turned to the others and said, “I don’t use liquor
much, but Bizet fixes a mint-julep that pleases even me. Let’s irrigate.” The
little Frenchman welcomed them with a broad smile, but wagged a finger at
Sudden. “My fren’, fortune she is fickle; one time she will fail you.”

 
          
“I’ve
been sayin’ the same, Bizet,” Wild Bill said. “He’s playin’ his luck too hard.”
And to the cowboy, “Yu remember what I told yu?”

 
          
“Yu
said for me to keep clear o’ the women,” Sudden grinned. “An’ a woman has saved
me.” The big man laughed. “That’s a score to yu, but I’m repeatin’ the advice,”
he said. “Someone is after yore ha’r; who is it?”